


Dem Bones

by candygramme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme
Summary: The Salt and Burn that didn't go to plan.This was written originally for the SPN_BigPretzel Halloween challenge.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	Dem Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Beta as always by the remarkable spoonlessone.

Time had moved on. Occasionally Sam would get a brief call from their mom, but Dean, although he would creep closer and listen, did his best to appear unconcerned by the fact that she was out there in the world and not where he could protect her. Sam, try though he might, had been unable to get him to talk about it. 

So, business as usual carried on. Lacking a big bad out there to focus on, they had reverted to hunting down the mundane monsters. Despite knowing that Lucifer was still out there somewhere, they both breathed big sighs of relief and went back to the way things had been.

Late October found them in an overgrown graveyard, doing what passed for the family business.

The salt and burn had been successful. In fact, it had been so successful that it had been finished in record time, despite the interference that had been thrown up by the ghost in question. The vengeful spirit had been a witch who had paid the price for going up against Rowena sometime in the 19th Century and who since then had been taking it out on anyone whose name just happened to be Rowena.

Of course there was always collateral damage, and Sam thought it was possible he’d never be able to hear again. The witch’s shrieks and howls had been so ear-splitting that his head was still ringing. The air smelled of ozone as the brothers began to fill in the hole they had dug in order to reveal the remains. Dean grinned as he tossed his shovel to the ground and stood back at last, dusting off his filthy hands. 

“Hey. I think there’s gonna be a storm.” Dean loved storms, and Sam sighed, because they were going to be out in the weather at least until the pyrotechnics were over.

“Yeah. I think you’re right,” he said. “Let’s hurry up and get this stuff back to the car before we’re drenched.” He picked up the bag and one of the shovels, leaving Dean to shoulder the other, grab the shotgun and follow him. They began to push their way through the long grasses and dying weeds that were typical of the time of year, when Sam stopped short, causing Dean, who was close behind him, to crash into him.

“Dude?” Dean dropped his shovel in surprise. “Need to get you fitted with brake lights.”

“Check that out,” muttered Sam, dropping his burden to take the shotgun from Dean and fumble in his pocket for a salt cartridge.

At that moment, the lightning began. A searing bolt forked across the sky, temporarily illuminating the landscape in a weird, Goya-esque fashion, and to the left, both brothers could clearly see earth moving at the foot of a moss-encrusted headstone. The light was extinguished almost instantly, and resulted in a moment of temporary blindness, while the effects of the flash wore off, and left the two of them in a darkness made intense by the sounds of rustling, first over where Sam had first pointed, then behind them. As the first clap of thunder sounded, their eyes began to adjust once more, and Sam leveled the shotgun, casting from side to side to see what was moving around.

“Uh, Dean?” There was movement all around them. From the abandoned plots all around the cemetery, an army of skeletons were slowly pushing themselves free of the rank undergrowth.

“I see them,” murmured Dean. “ Am I sleeping? Man, I shouldn’t have eaten that last cheeseburger.”

“Wide awake here. I see them too, and I had a salad.” Sam was shaking his head. “I don’t think anything like this was covered in Dad’s journal, was it?”

“Can’t exactly check his journal any more though, can we?” The faint bitterness in Dean’s voice made Sam turn towards him.

“Dude, she’s our mom. She deserved to know what we did after she died. She deserves to know what dad turned into.” 

“I get it. Bleeding heart and all that.” Dean suddenly stopped talking and looked from side to side. “Maybe we should continue talking about this at some other time, like never! Right now we’ve got other things to worry about,” he growled.

As they’d been talking, the skeletons had pulled themselves free and appeared to be dusting off the dirt that they had accumulated on their way out of their graves. One that was particularly close to them was fumbling into its right eye-socket with a bony finger and finally appeared relieved when it pulled out a particularly large, fat worm. Sam fired a blast of rock salt at it, but that merely seemed to make all the skeletons turn from what they were doing to look at them with their empty eyes.

“Dammit, Sammy!” Dean grabbed for Sam’s jacket. “Don’t do that. They’ve noticed us now.” Sam gave no response, merely standing watching with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

The lightning flashed again, followed almost instantly by a clap of thunder that made them both jump. The sudden illumination showed that the skeletons had arranged themselves in a loose circle around them, save for one that was somewhat smaller and which seemed to be running around the outside, looking for a place to squeeze in.

“Do you suppose this is still the witch?” Sam edged closer to Dean so that the two of them were standing back to back, unsure how to proceed. “I thought we got her when she flamed out after you tossed the matches into her grave.”

“I don’t see how.” Dean was whispering, but the skeletons on his side of the circle all leaned in as though they wanted to hear. “Could be, though. Remind me to look it up in dad’s journal. Oh, wait…”

A sound not unlike a titter ran around the circle, and the smaller one seemed to need his words explained, because just as it began to laugh all the others stopped. As one, the brothers turned their heads to look at it, and its laughter slowly petered out as it shrank back a little. 

More lightning, more thunder. The storm was directly overhead now, and almost constant. A bolt struck the slab that covered a tomb on the edge of the graveyard, cracking the lid and enabling yet another skeleton to clamber out and work its way over to them.

It seemed as if they had been waiting for this final member of their horrific team to come and join them, because, as one, they all joined hands with a gruesome clattering sound and began to circle around the brothers.

Sam and Dean had given up on trying to identify weapons that would let them escape and now stood watching them, slack-jawed in astonishment. Dean snorted.

“I’m stuck in an Evil Dead movie without my chainsaw,” he said, shaking his head.

“I thought Gabriel died,” said Sam.

“Yeah. He did. It’s not Gabriel.”

The skeletons began to sing in high, squeaky voices that put Sam in mind of the Chipmunks.

They wrap you up in a big white sheet  
From your head down to your feet.

Neither man could do anything to stop themselves from laughing now. As their bony companions moved around the circle, Sam and Dean forgot their defensive stance in favor of doubling up in mirth.

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,  
The worms play pinochle on your snout.  
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,  
They eat the jelly between your toes.

“Oh, that’s gross,” said Sam. “I keep my feet clean, thank you very much.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean had to chime in. “I threw those blue socks away after I saw a couple of moths chew on them and die.”

“My blue socks? The good wool ones?” Sam was outraged, in danger of forgetting the skeletal chorus that surrounded them.

“Ah, Winchesters! Squabbling as usual, I see.”

Sam looked up to see a tall figure robed in black, with a scythe leaning jauntily over one shoulder.  
“Excuse me. Do we know you?”

“You do,” said the creature. “Not as well as you will, but you do.”

The skeletons had changed their song, and were now providing a do-wop chorus for the small one, who was performing a spirited (ha!) rendition of ‘Dem Bones’. It had just reached the part where the hip bones were connected to the back bone, when Dean, who had very particular tastes in music that didn’t include anything he was hearing, seemed to decide that enough was enough.

“Okay, enough karaoke for one night,” he yelled. “Shut the fuck up.”

The sudden silence was deafening.

The song paused in mid note. The little skeleton drooped, and another one stepped forward to chatter something indistinct into the place where its ear would have been if it hadn’t had a gaping hole right there.

The figure stepped forward and pushed back its hood revealing – and this will come as no surprise to the reader – Death.

Sam and Dean had not read this story, and fell back in amazement.

“But… but you’re dead,” said Dean, and at that, the skeletons burst into laughter.

“Silly human.” Death almost smiled. Sam actually saw one of his face muscles twitch. “You really think you could kill me? I told you once, that isn’t possible. One day I will reap God himself, and his sister too.”

“Well you almost scared us to death,” grumbled Dean.

Death waved one of his hands – the one not carrying the scythe, of course – and the skeletons turned and began shambling back to their individual graves, except for the little one, which came in close and kicked Dean on the shins before running back to a plot close by the gate of the cemetery.  
“Almost,” said Death, grinning toothily. “Almost, but not quite. Happy Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Sam fumbled for his watch. “Oh, lord, I’d lost count of the days.”

“Never a good call when you’re a Winchester,” said Death. “You should know better. Trick or treat?”

Frowning, Sam fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a Clif bar, which he offered to Death, who took it gravely and studied the wrapper, dubiously. Dean was also fumbling, and managed to find a half consumed pack of chili lime beef jerky. Death’s eyes lit up as he accepted the bounty. 

“Thank you, gentlemen. I knew I could count on you,” he said, smacking his lips as he chewed a piece of the chili lime jerky. Waving his hand, he strode off into the shadows and was gone.

The lightning was still flashing, but the thunder was muted and far away now. As Sam and Dean gathered up their assorted salt and burn kit, the rain began, huge fat drops that gathered speed as they found their rhythm.

“Yeah, I knew it,” said Sam, and the two of them ran for the Impala. The skeletons could clean up after themselves.


End file.
